Singles Awareness Day
by Crysania
Summary: New graduate student, Rey, discovers her college loves Valentine's Day. What's a bitter, single girl to do? Why, start up a Singles Awareness Day meeting for all the rest of the lonely people. There's just that one little problem in the form of Dr. Ben Solo. Written for the Reylo Trash Compactor's Be Mine Valentine Fic Fest. (Rated M for language - there is no smut here)


February 2017

It's only her first month at a new school and Rey is already annoyed. She knows no one, feels a bit isolated. The few friends she has are back at the school she just graduated from and she's off to a new adventure. _Grad School_. She never thought she'd get this far. Unkar Plutt, the bastard of a foster father she'd had for far too many years, never thought she'd get this far.

But here she is, no longer a scrawny kid scavenging on the streets. She's an honest to goodness _graduate student_ at an institute of higher learning.

Being a new student and not knowing the culture of the place she's landed at means she had no idea that Valentine's Day was a _huge deal_. A big fucking deal. The hallways are decorated in pink and red and everyone is talking about the big dance. They bring in a swing band and couples get to take lessons and it's _oh so fun_.

But it's not so much fun for the new girl. And especially not for the perpetually single new girl. It's not that the opportunities haven't been there. But Rey? She doesn't trust easily and none of them felt _right_. She could give her body over to someone, however briefly, but her heart? That's not so easy.

And so "VD" as she's taken to calling it is never an easy one for her.

"They _love_ it here, Rey," her roommate, Rose, says to her when she grumbles about it for only about the millionth time. "You'll just have to get used to it."

She can't.

_Bloody wankers_.

She goes digging on the internet that evening and then finds it. _Singles Awareness Day_. She remembers hearing about it when she was a bit younger, but never paid it much mind. With the way her life was growing up, she could just ignore it all. But here it's so bloody prominent she can't. And it's not that she's not _trying_. It's just…ever present. Like mosquitoes in a swamp.

So she sets to making her plans, creating flyers to pass out in the hopes of having at least a small gathering of people who might want to just hang out. She has no real plans in mind, maybe dinner at one of the local dining halls. Or gathering to watch a movie. She expects little out of it, but maybe she'll meet some other people who are as bitter and annoyed by it all as she is.

* * *

There are couches where people tend to gather near the entrance to her department. Well, not _couches_ per se. That implies they're something comfortable. They're really just flat benches with some padding. But everyone calls them "the couches" and so that's what they are.

Since most of the department passes them by on a daily basis, it's the obvious place to stand around with some of her flyers. She's decided on a simple gathering in one of the dining hall rooms. She's checked it out, an effortless procedure as it turns out. And a cheap one. They can get their food from the main cafeteria and retreat to their little event.

"It's a Hallmark holiday," she grumbles at one young woman who takes one of her flyers.

"But everyone loves it," the woman argues back, handing the flyer back to Rey as she departs.

A few more people take them and she sees one just toss it into a bin with a laugh. _I didn't want you jerks there anyway_, she almost shouts after them. _Young punks_.

Forget that they're probably all of a year or two younger than her. Some days she feels ancient compared to them anyway.

A few people take them and seem interested. It's a start, at least.

The man in black finds her there late one afternoon. She's managed to give out a small handful of flyers. She's been laughed at by a few. And one enthusiastic young man has indicated he'd love to come. Rose promises too. So there's that, at least. It might just be her, her roommate, and the young man, a cellist named Finn. But it's a _start_.

But then there's the man in black. He takes the flyer from her hand almost as if it's a living thing. And one he'd rather not deal with. She's never seen him before. She'd _remember_ if she did. Tall and broad, he doesn't _look_ like an academic. He looks like some Greek god with his long dark hair and prominent nose and those thick, plush lips. Rey feels something inside her shift as he looks at her flyer and his eyebrows shoot up.

"Singles Awareness Day?" She's not sure if he sounds annoyed or intrigued. Either way she doesn't want him to _leave_. His voice is lovely, deep with just a slight tinge of a Midwestern accent. She's pretty sure it's a voice she could never tire of listening to.

"Someone has to combat all of _this_." She waves her hand around at all the pink decorations.

He snorts, a strange inelegant thing coming from someone who looks like him. "Indeed." And then he looks at her. _Really_ looks at her and she finds herself completely entranced by the color of his eyes. Lighter than she would have expected considering how _dark_ everything else is about him. He's pale, as if he hasn't seen the sun in years, but his hair and clothing are all starkly black. His eyes, though; they're a shade of warm brown and _fuck it all_, she likes them. She really _really_ likes them.

She holds out her hand. "If you don't want the flyer, those cost money to make…"

He pulls it back in closer to himself. "Who says I don't want it?"

She smiles. "Keep it, then. Maybe we'll see you there."

"Maybe," he mutters. "But I doubt it. Thank you, at least, Miss…"

"Rey," she says. "Rey Jackson."

"The new wunderkind," he murmurs and she almost laughs.

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Came from nothing and no one, took top honors? I would." He shrugs his broad shoulders with the words.

She narrows her eyes at him. She hates that, as if she's only important here because of her background, or lack thereof as it were. "Well, then, Mr…"

"Doctor, actually," he says, but offers nothing further. "Perhaps I'll see you at your…little gathering."

And then he's gone, disappearing into the crowd with an ease she wouldn't have expected of someone of his height and size.

* * *

He doesn't show up though, and Rey feels strangely sad over that. She was never quite sure if he was mocking her or serious about it. For all she knows, he's not even single. She can't imagine him celebrating the ridiculous holiday, but surely someone who looks like that has a hot girlfriend.

"You seem sad," Rose remarks to her as she joins her in her little corner of the room. Her gathering is not quite a success. There are a few people who stuck their head in and disappeared. A few who laughed and pointed.

Mostly it's a bunch of bitter guys, Rey, and Rose.

There's Finn too and Rose tells her they're going to leave in a little while to spend some _time_ together. Singles Awareness Day and her roommate uses it to hook up with someone. _Typical_.

"I was hoping he'd come," she admits. Doctor whoever. She figures he must be a professor. It's the only explanation for his tossing that at her before he left.

"Oh, the mystery guy? Tall, dark, and snarky?"

"That's him. I should have known he wouldn't come. He was probably mocking me." She offers the last with a shrug.

"Fuck him," Rose says and then gives her a look. Rey knows what she's thinking. They may not have been roommates for long, but they _got_ each other on some spiritual level. _Yes…yes I might like that_…

* * *

February 2018

She considers not doing it again. But if Rey is _anything,_ it's persistent.

"Really, Rey?" Rose asks. They've become fast friends in the past year. It's nice having Rose around. She's warm and funny. Even if she did end up dating that guy from the Singles Awareness Day party the previous year.

Not that Rey is bitter or anything.

Finn, his name is. He's sweet as can be and always tries to include Rey in their conversations. Sometimes the three of them go out and he doesn't even make her feel like a third wheel. He's just a _good_ guy. There aren't many left, she thinks sometimes, and envies her friend for finding someone like him.

"Yeah."

"You still want _him_ to come, don't you?"

Rey cringes. "No…"

"You _do_," Rose says with a big grin. "Oh, Professor Solo." Professor Benjamin Solo. She'd found out who he was the night she went to his recital. She'd had _no_ idea. And then there he was, striding across the stage, putting one overly large hand on the edge of the piano and bowing for the audience.

She'd been even more captivated by him after that and it was hard to hide it from her best friends.

"_Rose_," she warns and the other woman laughs.

"Look, Rey, it's ok. It's not even like he's _your_ professor."

"No, but…"

"There are no rules against it. I looked it up."

Rey shoots her a look. "You _would_."

They both dissolve into laughter but the truth is Rey really _does_ want him to show up.

* * *

"I thought I'd find you here," comes the deep voice from behind her. Rey is handing a flyer to a small group of students who at least seem _somewhat_ interested in what she has to say.

She whirls around and he's there. "Dr. Solo," she murmurs.

"Well, at least you figured out who I am." He reaches out and takes one of the flyers, offering a small sound of disapproval.

"I didn't have money for new ones," Rey says.

"So you just crossed off the year and wrote in this year's date?"

She shrugs. "Something like that."

He continues to frown at the paper.

"You don't have to keep it," she reminds him. "They cost money, you know."

His eyes shoot up and meet hers. "Yes, so I've heard." There's a half-smile on his face as he speaks.

"I told you that before?"

"You did. And then you tried to take it from me."

She reaches out her hand and tries again. "You didn't show up," she points out.

"I didn't," he confirms.

"Because…"

He shrugs at that. "No reason, really." But there's something lurking about his eyes, the set of his mouth.

"You secretly love Valentine's Day?"

This earns her at least a small huff of laughter. "Hardly."

"Then…"

He hands her back the flyer and she feels her heart plummet a little. "It seems rather inappropriate, Miss Jackson."

And then he's gone.

So much for _that_ idea.

* * *

"Thanks, Rey!" one of the undergrads who came to her gathering shouts at her on the way out. She's a tiny little thing, buried in glasses too big for her small face. She'd told Rey earlier in the evening that she struggles with social events but decided to come anyway.

She had a good time.

So did the 25 other people who came.

It wasn't a _rousing _success, not exactly. But it was a success nonetheless. They all toasted their single status and talked long into the evening about their dating disasters or even lack of opportunities. Even better, there were a few people who identified themselves to Rey as asexual and they were thrilled to have _something_ to do that day that had nothing to do with love and sex and romance. They'd shared it with the rest of their LGBTA group and they promise the following year even more people will show up.

Rey's happy to know it's a safe space for some. It warms her heart.

The evening is almost over when she sees someone peel himself away from the far wall.

_Him_.

There's only a few guys left in one corner, but they give him a slightly fearful look before scooting out the door.

"Miss Jackson," he says. He's holding her old flyer, the one with last year's date on it.

"Rey," she points out.

"Indeed.

"You came." She tries not to let the words sound too breathy.

"Obviously." Dry. Always that dry, sarcastic tone.

"Why?"

He says nothing and then finally just shrugs. "Why not?"

"You seemed to think it was…"

"Inappropriate? Perhaps." Another shrug of those too-broad shoulders. "Perhaps not."

She's not sure what to say to that, so reaches out and takes the paper from his hand. "You kept it?"

"Same date, same place. The year hardly matters at all, does it?"

"It has to matter, at least a little. Last year I didn't even know who you were."

He studies her for a moment. "I suppose…" He takes a step closer and she's not sure if she wants to step toward him or away. He's very tall, almost intimidating really, she thinks as she looks up at him. But there's a softness to his eyes, to his mouth, that makes her hold her ground.

"Professor," she starts to say.

"Ben," he murmurs. "My name is _Ben_. And before you can say anything else, that distinction _does_ matter."

"It does." And then – "Why are you really here?"

He doesn't look away from her as he speaks. "I don't know." There's a strange sort of honesty there in those words. "I couldn't _not_ come."

There's a whole volume of words unsaid there and she wants to speak, wants to say something. She doesn't know what, though, and it all feels so fraught with tension, so fragile. If she says the wrong thing, he'll flee. He's spent the whole last year avoiding her. She's almost caught him watching her before, she's sure of it. He was there, somewhere in the audience, during her violin recital. She's seen him there at the orchestra concerts.

But he doesn't talk to her.

And yet here he is and his hand is up and very close to her face for just a moment. And her name on his lips sounds like some sort of coming home. She closes her eyes.

Is he going to…

"Rey!" The voice that comes from the doorway makes her leap back. She doesn't look away from him for a moment and yes, yes she's sure he was at least _thinking_ about kissing her. His eyes are heavy, half-closed, his lips parted. And she wants to tell the person at the door to just fuck off already because they ruined what could have been a perfectly amazing end to the evening.

With a sigh she finally does turn away from him. "Finn," she mutters. Finn and Rose. _Of course_.

"Everything ok here?" Finn asks.

"Yes, we were just…" And she turns toward him. Or…where he was. He's gone. Disappeared like so much smoke into the ether. _Fuck_.

* * *

February 2019

An entire _year_. A whole fucking year. How does this even happen? It's Rey's _last_ year, incidentally. She has her master's recital in April and then that's it. She graduates. She looks for a job.

This year she doesn't even have to pass out flyers for her Singles Awareness Day get together. People come to _her_. They've heard about it. Their friends went last year and had an amazing time. Their boyfriend broke up with them. They've never had a date. They're not sure they _want_ to be with anyone.

It's cathartic in a way.

Dr. Solo, _Ben_, has somehow managed to avoid her the entire year again. Oh, there are the occasional exchanges of pleasantries and once they'd been in the mailroom at the same time. Oh _God_ was that awkward. He'd started toward her, stopped, shook his head and then with a _Miss Jackson_ and a nod, he had disappeared out the door.

And really, it's not for wont of trying on Rey's part. She's made a few attempts.

"Rey, Rey, _Rey_," Rose says for perhaps the millionth time. "I get that he's some sort of snack, but maybe it's time to look elsewhere? There are a lot of…"

"_Boys_," Rey hisses. Boys her age. They're not _him_. Keenly intelligent with a wit that is dry with snark. She's gone to every one of his presentations, has made sure she found herself at every concert he performs at. He plays the audience like he plays the piano, with an adeptness she can only wish she had.

She's good at violin. She can _hide_ behind it in a way, let it do the talking. But just _her_? No. Never. She has no skills with people or with an audience that way. Really, she wants to just disappear in the beauty of an orchestral ensemble. She has dreams of being concertmaster, but little else. It's a good dream.

"I give up," Rose mutters.

"You never do." Rey reaches out to hug her disgruntled roommate. "Are you and Finn going to stop by?"

"Probably. I mean, someone has to stop you from drinking all that champagne you ordered."

* * *

She's at the couches a few days before Valentine's Day. The whole place is still covered in red and silly blow-up conversation hearts.

"No flyers?" one kid says with a smile.

"You'll be there?" He's been there every year, one of the first.

He gives her a shy look. "No, not this year."

"You sly dog," she says and reaches out to clap him on the shoulder. "You finally did it?" He'd been pining away after a young lady in his theory classes practically since day one.

He shakes his head and leans closer to her. "_She_ did."

Rey laughs as he heads off. _Young love_. It's not that she doesn't approve, but there's this _pang_ inside her. She wants it and yet doesn't, and not for the first time her mind goes to Ben Solo. He won't come. She's sure of it, but _oh_ does she wish he would.

"Rey!" someone else shouts, breathless.

"Kay, slow down." Rey laughs as the young woman rushes up to her. Kaydel has become a fast friend in the past year. A new graduate student who had been as horrified at the insanity that is Valentine's Day at their school as she was, they'd bonded over their perpetually single status.

And they might have also bonded over their pining for certain professors. Kaydel had had a crush on Dr. Dameron, the trumpet teacher, pretty much since she'd first laid eyes on him.

"You need to come see this." There's a spark of _something_ in her eyes.

"Kay…"

"No really. Come to the Commons." She reaches out and grabs Rey's hand to pull her to her feet. There aren't many that Rey would let manhandle her in such a way, but Kaydel was one of the few. "Trust me," she says as she drags her down the hall toward the Commons.

The Commons is the eating area in the music building. It's pretty much where everyone meets up, if they don't meet up at the couches. There's a board there where you can post notes indicating where you're practicing or if you're in the library. It's almost quaint, really, that in this day of iPhones and texting, they still have such a board.

And people _use_ it.

Kaydel stops and plucks off one of the notes and hands it to her. It's addressed to Rey and as she skims it, her mouth hangs open.

_What is this stance we take,  
To turn away and then turn back?  
What did we hear?  
It was the breath we took when we first met._

_Listen. It is here._

"From Dr. Solo?"

Rey can feel her cheeks heat up.

"I knew it!" Kaydel says.

"Is she coming?" Rose says as she ducks out of the Commons. "What are you guys waiting for?"

"What on earth is going on?" Rey hates feeling like there's some big _joke_ going on that she's not a part of.

Kaydel just gives her a _look_. "You need to see it to believe it. Trust me." Rose and Kaydel _both _grab onto Rey's hands and tug her into the Commons.

Ben is there, sitting at a small piano. It's not the big grand he tends to favor for concerts, but rather some rickety little upright. She's not even sure where they found it. It doesn't look like most of the pianos at the school. The wood is worn and it looks like it's taken quite a beating. She'd expect to see it more at an elementary school than at a conservatory.

But still. There he sits. His fingers race over the keys and she recognizes the introduction to a famous Schubert song. But then…

Wait…

What?

He's singing. She's never heard him sing but, not surprisingly, that beautifully deep speaking voice translates to a beautifully deep singing voice.

But he's not singing Schubert.

Well, he _is_. But the words are not Schubert's.

Or even an English translation.

No, they're made up words. His own, perhaps. And they're about Valentine's Day. Or rather, his hatred of the day and being single on Valentine's Day.

"He told us this is for all the singles," Rose whispers in her ear. "That it's in honor of Singles Awareness Day."

He's dressed all in black and he's singing of bitterness and annoyance at the holiday and she feels her heart absolutely _melt_. "Oh fuck," she murmurs.

He doesn't notice her, not at first. He's too into his bitterness, too involved in whatever he's doing. She wonders if he's made up the songs himself. The lyrics are simplistic, though they do follow the general rhyming scheme of the songs they're parodies of.

She hears Mozart and Schubert and even one little bit by Handel.

"What is he _doing_?" she whispers in awe.

Kaydel smirks.

Rose giggles.

And then he finally sees her and while he doesn't _smile_, something passes across his face. A bit of pride, a bit of daring, He nods in her direction and she finds herself torn between throwing herself at him in all his bitter, piano playing glory, and fleeing the room in complete embarrassment.

Instead, she stays. She stays and watches until the very very end.

And _then_ she disappears.

* * *

She kicks herself all day. And all day the next, to be honest. She hears he's back at it. An hour recital of sorts. People laugh and they cheer for him. Even the "VD" lovers find it all amazing and hilarious.

She hears them all murmur.

_What got into him?_

_Maybe he was dumped?_

_Jilted at the altar?_

_Come on…have you ever seen Dr. Solo _with_ anyone?_

She doesn't go back to watch him again. Instead, she grips the poem he wrote out in her hand, keeps it tucked into her pocket, bringing it out to touch it, reading it at odd times of the day. She doesn't know what it _means_. But she knows it must mean _something_.

"Are you hosting again tonight?" Rose asks her.

"Last time," Rey responds with and she feels a little sad over that. She hopes it continues without her, hopes that someone will take the reins and make it a part of the school's tradition. _Do you remember when it all began?_ Maybe someday they'll be talking about it, about how some lonely master's student started it out of spite.

It hasn't changed anything, not really.

But it's given the _others_ something to do, something to look forward to. She likes that at least. The perpetually single, the ones who have gone through tough breakups, the ones not interested in relationships. They're no longer left out.

"Will you stop by?" Rey asks.

Rose shrugs. "I don't know. I'd like to, but…"

"I know. You and Finn have plans." She's happy for them. Really she is. It's just _she_ doesn't. Still. She's going out of her master's program the way she came in: alone.

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Rey says quickly. "We'll have a grand time without you. There's cake this year." One of the guys who came the year before has been taking baking classes. He promised to bake for the group. She's had the guy's cookies before. The cake ought to be _amazing_.

"I'll be sorry to miss the cake," Rose says with a soft smile.

"You should be."

"Maybe he'll come?" Rose offers up after a moment's pause.

Rey shrugs.

"There's that poem he left you. On the board. Where _everyone_ could see. Don't you think people know Dr. Solo's handwriting?"

Rey shrugs again, but she reaches into her pocket and touches the piece of paper. "Maybe," she finally says. Maybe he'll come, tell her what it means, tell her _why_ he left it and why he was singing anti-Valentine's Day songs in honor of Singles Awareness Day in the Commons where everyone could come and watch.

She won't get her hopes up that he'll come.

He's disappointed her so far these past two years. What's one more final disappointment in the months before she graduates?

* * *

The party is in full swing, bigger and better than before. The cake is _fabulous_. Mitaka had out done himself bringing not _one_ cake, but three of various kinds. He tells her, with a bit of a pink tinge to his cheeks, that he wanted to make everyone happy. Her Singles Awareness Day party means the world to him. He's one of those shy, sweet kids, often bullied, but here he's met friends and she's seen him smile more this year than the last.

She suggests to Mitaka that maybe he should take the reins next year when she's gone and he actually looks like he's considering it. He'll be a good leader someday. The party is only the beginning for him.

She doesn't even recognize half the faces as she walks around the room. Some introduce her to their new friends as the one who started it all, some look past her and she's alright with that. Next year she'll be a ghost.

_Maybe not such a bad thing_.

She hears the murmur before she's even completely aware of what it means. A hush falls over the crowd and her head comes up just as someone kills the music.

And then _he_ is there.

The crowd parts like the Red Sea and she'd laugh if the butterflies in her stomach didn't almost choke her with their flurry of wings.

"You came," she says.

And there's a small half-smile on his face at the words. "You said that last year," he points out.

"Did I?"

"You did." His hand starts to reach up and then he pulls back, clenching it into a fist. "You sounded just as amazed."

She's not even sure what to say to that. "You remember?" The last year has been a blur. Recitals, final papers, getting audition material together. She remembers his showing up last year. She remembers they almost kissed. Or did they? Maybe that was in a dream. It's all so hazy now.

"I remember…_everything_."

Rey glances around the room. All eyes are on them. Mitaka, standing near his cake, has a brilliant smile on his face. Some of the others look more hesitant. The words "tension so thick you could cut it with a knife" have never seemed quite so appropriate.

"Why?" she finally says.

He cocks his head slightly to the side at the word, a furrow appearing between his dark brows.

"Why are you here? Why have you _ignored_ me for the past two years? Why that display in the Commons?"

"You mean my anti Valentine's Day recital?"

She almost laughs. _Almost_. "Is that what you're calling it?"

"Not officially."

He says nothing else, just watches her, and she makes a small sound of annoyance. "Dr. Solo."

"Ben," he says. "I've told you to call me Ben."

"And why _should_ I?" she shoots back with. "You've ignored me for the entire year, treated me as if I'm just some other student who doesn't matter. You show up and then disappear. And then you leave me _this_." She pulls out the note with the poem on it. It's a crumpled mess, almost worn smooth from her touching it and playing with the paper in the last few days.

He takes it from her almost gingerly, his large fingers spreading open the paper and glancing down at it. "What is this stance we take, to turn away and then turn back? What did we hear? It was the breath we took when we first met. Listen. It is here."

"What does it _mean_?"

He looks back up at her and there's a small bit of pink on his cheeks. "Can we take this somewhere else?"

"No." She stands up straighter. "You're here. At my party." She glances around at the rest of the people. They're still watching but at least a few of them are pretending not to. "You can say it here in front of all these people. If you can't, then maybe it doesn't matter."

"It matters," he murmurs.

She doesn't know if she wants to stay, wait to see what else he says, or walk away, or punch him. Maybe all three, if she's going to be honest. "Then why…"

"What sound was that? I turn away, into the shaking room." He glances around them and it's like everything is just waiting, waiting for someone to breath, waiting for something to _happen_. And then he takes a step forward.

Another.

And then he's in front of her and his hands come up and she can _see_ the slight tremble to them. "It was the breath we took when we first met," he says as he leans forward and kisses her brow, just a soft brushing of his lips against her skin.

She stills.

He pulls back and she can see that furrow return. But more, she can see the dilated pupils, the soft set to his mouth. She moves forward then, wrapping her arms around him. She can hear his heartbeat beneath her ear as she presses herself tightly against her chest.

She can hear the floorboards shift as a few people move around them and they pull apart as awareness of just where they are returns.

"It's a poem," he says and cringes.

She laughs then. _Finally_. Because maybe this isn't going the way she thought it was. "I know."

"By Harold Printer. He was a British playwright. Won the Nobel prize in 2005. "

"Are you serious?"

"Yes…" There's a slight question there at the end of the word.

"No, I mean…_this_ is what you want to talk about? Right now? _For real_?"

"It's considered one of the best love poems written," he says by way of explanation. His hands hover in the air and then finally settle on her shoulders.

At her indrawn breath, his cheeks turn even redder and the tips of his overly large ears that she can just see peeking out between strands of long, dark hair redden as well. She's not noticed them before. But his hair has always covered them. With her hands having pushed it back, she can see them now and there's something so very endearing about their red tips. "Do you…" she starts to ask and then shuts her eyes, shakes her head a little.

"I could." There's a strange fervency, a sort of heat to the words. "If you give me a chance."

"But…" She thinks back on the past two years, the fleeting glances, the short moments of conversation where he seemed like he always had to _tear_ himself away. She always thought he wanted to say more, but after a number of times of the same thing over and over again, she thought maybe he was just being polite.

But then he'd been at her recital. Front row too, she remembers. She'd been completely disconcerted at seeing him there and damned near screwed up the cadenza. When she'd finished the recital, he'd been the first person on his feet, and there had been a smile on his face. A real, genuine smile.

"All this time?"

"Yes," he whispers and one of his hands comes up to lightly caress the side of her face.

She can feel the tears at the corners of her eyes. _All this time._ So much time wasted. "I don't understand."

And then…_then_…finally, he leans down and touches his lips to hers.

And…well, she won't say it's like the birds start singing and the sun has suddenly come out. But it's really very very _nice_. His lips are soft and just a little bit tentative as they brush against hers. One of his massive hands, those lovely, long-fingered beautiful hands that can elicit such amazing sounds from a piano, cups her face.

When he pulls back and meets her eyes, she's distantly aware of some sort of commotion.

"They're applauding," he says and his voice is full of confusion and wonder.

"They are," she says with a laugh.

There are shouts of _more_ and _it's about time_.

"Did they…" He swallows hard. "Did they want this to happen?"

Rey lets out a small huff of laughter. "Apparently so?"

"Hmmm…" is all he says and it's all so bloody awkward. She doesn't know what to say to him, now that this…this _thing_…is out in the open. She's not even sure what she can call it, if there's a name for it, what it is, where they're headed.

He brings one of his hands up and uses his thumb to smooth away the furrow in her brow. "You're thinking too hard."

"I do that."

"I know."

"You…how?" She doesn't understand him at _all_.

"I _know_ you." He leans down closer as he speaks and a shiver runs up her back.

"I know you too," she admits.

"Good." And then he kisses her again, hands on either side of her face as he slants his mouth against hers and deepens the kiss, mouth open and soft against hers. She responds by wrapping her arms around him and pulling him as close to her as she can. It's a lovely kiss. And it promises much more.

When they finally break apart, the room is nearly silent and she laughs a little, buries her face in that lovely chest of his.

He leans down to close to her, his lips right at her ear. "Shall we get out of here?"

She starts to say yes, but then straightens up, glancing around the room and all the friends she's made through her Singles Awareness Day parties over the past few years. "I want to, but…"

"Go on!" she hears someone shout and Mitaka is standing there, cake knife in hand, and waving one hand at her. "I've got it covered."

Ben reaches out to take her hand and she entwines her fingers with hims "I knew you would!" she shouts over her shoulder at Mitaka. And then she lets Ben pull her out of the room.

She really has no idea where this is going, but when he turns to her again just as soon as they're outside the room and pulls her into another kiss, she thinks that she's ready for whatever this particular future might hold.


End file.
